


At the End of the Day

by Konfessor2U



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Mush, John is Tired, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/pseuds/Konfessor2U
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has had a long day at the surgery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of the Day

Each lift of his leg up the stairs of 221B felt as if there were ten kilogram lead weights attached to each ankle. It was a struggle just to get going again when he paused, swaying lightly on the landing. After the longest day ever at surgery, John was more than looking forward to collapsing face first into the bed sheets. Spending hours on end awake and alert was nothing new to the doctor, living with Sherlock Holmes and all, but a 24-hour shift comprised of many emergency trips with his patients to hospital left John feeling utterly drained.

He pulled his knee up one last time to heave himself into the living room. Blinking his dry, tired eyes, he shuffled to the kitchen to switch off the small light over the stovetop that Sherlock had left on for him. He was slightly surprised that the detective wasn't awake and carrying out his crazy experiments. John smiled fondly, grateful for the peace and quiet and relative lack of body parts strewn about the kitchen.

When he turned back to the staircase the feeling of dread settled over him so heavily that it now felt like thirty kilogram weights on each of his legs. He didn't think that he could manage another flight of stairs and quickly decided that he wasn't even going to attempt it.

Carelessly flicking his shoes across the flat, John began the process of unceremoniously shedding all his clothing in the middle of the dark living room, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. One glance at the sofa against the wall brought on phantom neck pain from remembering the last time he spent a night on that couch. He brought a hand up to absently rub the back of his neck, grumbling and blinking, looking around, too tired to move and too tired to think about where to sleep.

Groggily, he finally made his decision and barely picking up his feet at all, he shuffled through the kitchen to Sherlock's bedroom, quietly opening the door just enough to squeeze through and close it behind him. John stood quietly for a moment, listening and watching for any signs that he had woken his flat mate. He hadn't. John had to use the light coming in from the window to move around the end of the bed to the side unoccupied by Sherlock, where he greatly had to resist flopping down onto the mattress as to not wake his friend.

As the tired doctor eased himself between the cool, crisp sheet and fluffy duvet, he couldn't stifle a tiny moan of relief, glad to have the full day of pressure off his feet and the muscles in his neck no longer had to hold up his substantially heavy head. He settled in with his back to the detective.

John smiled to himself and inhaled deeply, thinking that the bed smelled pleasantly of Sherlock, a good thought to fall asleep with, when he felt the lighter than light touch of a single finger on his lower back. He held his breath as he rolled over to look at Sherlock, whose dark brow was furrowed in deep concern and question, and his sharp eyes scanning John's features for injury.

John sighed heavily, slowly releasing the breath he was holding. "Was so tired." He mumbled, watching Sherlock carefully. He was waiting to be told to leave and inevitably he'd have to literally drag his arse up the steps or resign to sleeping on the horribly uncomfortable sofa. He had never come to Sherlock's bed in the past before, he was just so tired and it seemed the only logical place for him to go, second only to his own bed. However, he couldn't deny that he was happy here in his flat mate's bed. Sherlock didn't look too upset by it either, but only confused as to why John was there. "Really long day in surgery." He added another explanation for good measure before closing his eyes.

John felt long fingers curl around his hip, drawing him in closer and he didn't fight it, he simply shimmied forward, thankful for Sherlock's warmth and caring. The doctor's head lay nestled tightly against Sherlock's neck beneath his chin. John heaved a sigh of content. Sherlock quietly hummed his agreement and they fell asleep together, wrapped in each other's arms.


End file.
